


mon étoile

by cosmicwoosan



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Corruption, First Time, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Making Out, One Night Stands, Riding, Seduction, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, cheese with a side of smut, mingi is kind of an ass, rockstar hongjoong, shy genius virgin seonghwa, yeosang drummer!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicwoosan/pseuds/cosmicwoosan
Summary: “I won’t get to see you again, Seonghwa.”Seonghwa stares, silent. He swallows. “Y-yes, I know. It really has been a pleasure getting to talk to you and see you perform live.”“Who said our night has to end now?”~Hongjoong meets Seonghwa at a Paris venue. It escalates from there.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 9
Kudos: 196





	mon étoile

**Author's Note:**

> how could i not write a rockstar hongjoong fic after his numb cover??
> 
> disclaimer: i have no idea how venues/audio tech works and i've never been to paris so just!! pls go easy on me hahaha
> 
> little warning for a brief mention of drug use and some self-esteem issues. but other than that, enjoy cute nerd seonghwa!!

The sun looks different overseas, Hongjoong thinks. Perhaps he’s so used to the stifling mundaneness of life back home, in stuffy garages teeming with dust and cobwebs. Where the sun always seemed low in the sky, there but not entirely. His fate rested in that low-hanging sun, and the sunsets were always dreary no matter how many colors there were.

Now, as he hops out of the shiny black tour bus and onto the streets of Paris, he can see it _all._ His dreams, the accomplishments he and his bandmates have strived so hard for—they’re all right here in front of him, in the form of their first ever overseas venue. It’s not quite an arena or stadium, but it’s no dingy bar either. Hongjoong will take it, and cherish it.

San throws his arm around him, smiling bright, his expensive black shades thrown over his eyes. _Why would you want to miss out on this sun?_ Hongjoong wonders.

“Well, whatcha think?” San asks, nudging his side.

“It’s… big.”

“Bigger than we’re used to, yeah. And I’m sure it’s even bigger on the inside! Come on, Hong, let’s go!” San practically bounces on his feet with how excited he is, skipping into the venue behind their manager and a few members of their crew.

Hongjoong laughs to himself, thinking back to the days where they didn’t _have_ a crew, before they were signed and ready to take on venues like this. They’d spend entire days rehearsing in Jongho’s parents’ garage, midday to midnight. They’d performed at coffeehouses, dive bars, open houses, even some rich guy’s birthday party. Any gig they could get, they took.

And, well, it turned out well for them, apparently. Hongjoong still can’t believe it.

He’s blasted by a frigid chill from the air conditioners as he weaves his way through the dimly-lit backways of the venue, cluttered with equipment and miscellaneous storage. Their last gig had been at some auditorium, the size of a high school gymnasium, big enough to fit a few hundred people.

This venue, however, is spacious enough to fit a few _thousand._ Hongjoong’s jaw drops as soon he steps onto the stage, where San is already spinning around in gleeful circles, cheering. “It’s so fucking _big_!” San screams, his voice echoing off every inch of the venue. “You hear that reverb, dude? Fucking _insane_!”

“Wait until we take on stadiums, man,” Yunho says, grabbing San in a chokehold and grinding his fist into his bandmate’s head.

Hongjoong does an entire 360, wishing his eyes could absorb every little detail so he can store this moment away in his memory forever, but the place is so _big._ He takes in what he can—the berry-red seats stacked in columns and rows, separated by railings and steps that have never seemed so high, the triplet lights at the foot of the stage, blinding, the solid black of the stage itself, speckled from use. It smells like wood and smoke and musk. And _freedom._

“Soundcheck’s in a half hour!” calls the manager. “Get familiar with the place, say hi to the crew and everything, ‘kay? And don’t break anything!”

“No promises, boss!” San shouts in response, gagging dramatically in Yunho’s benign chokehold. When Yunho finally releases him, he straightens himself, shaking his head and dusting off his shirt. “So, what should we do?”

“We don’t usually get free time like this,” Yeosang says, coming up from behind Hongjoong. “Maybe we should—”

“Hey, lads!” comes a very… distinct voice.

The band members all turn their heads in the direction of the voice. Barreling down one of the rows is a tall man in plaid pants and a red checkered sweater vest, waving some curled up wad of paper. He has the face of a nineteen-year-old but the stride of a middle-aged man, voice is deep and commanding, sturdy despite the man’s zany appearance.

Behind him is a considerably less eccentric man, decked out in fucking khakis and a kiwi-green sweater vest. Hongjoong can’t help but gawk at the two.

If the first man is the alpha wolf, the second is the tail. Hongjoong can tell from the way the Green Vest stands; when Red Vest finally makes his thunderous steps up onto the stage, Green Vest takes thirty seconds to catch up, his footsteps mere raindrops in comparison. He stands behind Red Vest, head tucked down slightly.

“The name’s Mingi,” Red Vest announces. “I’m in charge of sound tech here at this venue, and this is my intern, Seonghwa.”

He motions to Green Vest with both arms. Seonghwa raises his head like a frazzled animal, nodding and acknowledging the group with a grunt.

“I’ve already spoken to your manager over the phone, he said you guys are rowdy but know your place, so I’m hoping there won’t be too much trouble goin’ into the show,” Mingi continues.

“No, sir!” Jongho speaks up, voice climbing several octaves.

“I like your enthusiasm!” Mingi shouts back. “I hear it’s your first time performin’ in a place like this.”

“Yessir, this is the biggest venue we’ve played so far,” Yunho informs.

Mingi’s face brightens, his mouth widening into an enormous smile as he claps. “Well, sure is an honor to welcome such a new, fresh group to the rock scene! I had a listen to some of your songs before you guys got here, and I must say, for a group that came from a garage just a few months ago, y’all have got a bright future ahead of you. Y’know, Seonghwa here’s been a fan since y’all were still playing at coffee shops!”

Seonghwa’s head shoots up again, eyes frantic beneath his thick-rimmed glasses. “O-oh, I… was a casual listener, y-yes…”

“Y’see? He’s such a big fan he can barely form words!” Mingi bellows, throwing his head back in boisterous laughter. “As timid as he may seem, he’s got quite the knack for sound engineering! I see this kid going places!”

“I-I’m… older than you…” Seonghwa mumbles, his words drowned by the resounding hum of the venue’s various internal systems. Hongjoong can just barely hear the words, and it makes him smile.

“What’s your favorite song of ours?” San asks excitedly.

“I was quite a fan of ‘Tinted Wings,’” Mingi says. “Pretty depressing, but it got a few real tears outta me, y’know? You know music is good when it does that to ya.”

“And you, Seonghwa?” Hongjoong asks calmly.

Seonghwa’s fleeting eyes hardly land anywhere near the band. “U-um… my favorite is probably… ‘Break the Scene.’”

“Yooo, that was one of our first songs! Like, off our first EP! You’ve really been listening to us for that long?” San shouts.

“Y-yes… I listen to a lot of underground artists on Spotify… that’s how I discovered your group.”

“That’s nuts!” San grabs Yunho’s arm and shakes him. “You hear that, Yunho? We’ve got an OG fan in the building! Doing _our_ soundcheck!”

“Not _just_ your soundcheck, y’darn fools. We’re doin’ the entire _show._ Well, not just the two of us, since we’ve got a bunch of equipment masters down here and all, but we’re the ones up at the panel. Y’see that up there?” Mingi points past the rows of seats and up to a window farthest away from the stage. “That’s our home. We’ll be up there the whole time, monitoring your show, makin’ sure the music’s all at the right volume and not glitchin’ out and shit. Lighting guys are up there too. We’re the masterminds of your whole show, so don’t piss us off, got it?”

“Yes, sir!” Jongho belts again, punctuating his words with a salute.

Mingi winks and clicks his tongue. “Perfect! Now, look, I’ve got some fiddlin’ around to do. Gotta set up some equipment down here before we head back up. I’ll see y’all in a few, okay?”

Without even waiting for a response, Mingi turns on his heels and walks off in stride. Hongjoong imagines he would kick up a mound of sand if there was any.

All the while, Seonghwa is left behind, him and all his awkwardness and bewilderment. His cute turtle shell-colored sweater vest and thick black-framed glasses. He whips his head around, unsure of where to go, but when Mingi fails to collect him, he stays fixed in place with no direction.

“Your boss is… eccentric,” Hongjoong comments. When he glances around, however, he sees his bandmates scattered about the stage, ooh-ing and ah-ing at everything they look at. He sighs. “Perhaps my bandmates aren’t any better.”

“Mingi sure is… passionate.” Seonghwa chuckles uncomfortably. “I’ve gotten used to it. Despite the way he talks about me, he actually has a lot of faith in my abilities. Although, I’ve had to prove it to him on several occasions before he finally decided to trust me.”

“Please tell me he doesn’t condescend you on a regular basis,” Hongjoong says sympathetically.

The smallest of smiles appears on Seonghwa’s face. He glances to his left, where Mingi had disappeared behind some curtains. “Not all the time, no. I just think he likes to put down people’s abilities to make himself look bigger. In all honesty, I feel like my abilities and knowledge rival his.”

Hongjoong snorts. “How long have you been at it?”

“Took some music production classes in high school, haven’t stopped since. So if you include those years… ten, about? Yes, that sounds accurate.”

“And Mingi?”

Seonghwa shrugs. “I’ve only been recently acquainted with him, and we don’t talk much casually. Couldn’t be much more than me, though. I’m a year older than him.”

“You two must be really passionate about what you do.”

“Passion makes the world go ‘round,” Seonghwa recites, amused.

“You a musician at all?”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “It’s why I am in audio engineering. I don’t know how to play any instruments, but I know how to make them sound good.”

“Mind taking me where the magic happens?”

Hongjoong can see the hesitation in Seonghwa’s face. One last glimpse to where Mingi disappeared, and Seonghwa shakes himself, determined. “Sure. Follow me.”

Seonghwa leads Hongjoong through a door masked by the overall darkness of the venue, one that blends in with the black wall, up several flights of winding stairs until they reach a platform and another door. Behind that door is the booth where the magic happens, where panels stretch along every edge of the space, buttons and knobs and lights that remind Hongjoong of an electronic night sky. Several swivel chairs are placed at each panel.

“All of the stage controls are up here,” Seonghwa says. “There are eight of us up here total.”

“Eight people running an entire stage?” Hongjoong gasps.

“We’re a good team.” Seonghwa laughs modestly, fingers brushing against a few of the knobs on the front panel. “Do you know anything about audio tech?”

“Oh… not much.”

It’s a lie. A pretty bold-faced one.

But it’s a lie that gets Seonghwa talking stammer-free about the different knobs and what they control, what all the fancy terms on the panel mean, how everything is integrated and intertwined, even showing Hongjoong that their panel lights up in rainbow colors just as an extraneous yet dazzling feature.

Hongjoong may not have seen an audio interface as elaborate as this one, but he knows what inputs and outputs are, he knows what EQ and gain is, he knows what does what. He’s spent way too much time in the recording studio to not know what these things mean. When the rest of the band members went home, Hongjoong stayed late at the studio, fiddling with each and every knob and channel and level until he familiarized himself with what did what.

He doesn’t tell Seonghwa that, though. He lets Seonghwa prate on about his passion, and seeing the timid man’s true colors and passion shining through after the debacle back on stage is like music to Hongjoong’s ears.

“I love music,” Seonghwa says at one point. “I love it, but can’t play. So, I decided I would find a way to include myself in the music scene without actually playing. And look at me now, I’m working at a venue in Paris! I’ve been to a lot of different places, actually.”

“Didn’t Mingi say you were an intern, though?”

“Well, y-yes... my studies haven’t ended yet. I’m graduating this year, though!”

Hongjoong’s eyebrow arches, a smirk playing on his face. “Something tells me you’re hiding something from me, Seonghwa-ssi.”

“Wh—no, no, I’m not! I swear, I’m not.”

“We’re from Korea, you just happen to be and speak Korean despite you being here in France, you’ve said you’ve been to a lot of different places even though you’re still a student… what’s your story, Seonghwa? What are you, truly?”

Seonghwa swallows nervously, and Hongjoong can’t even begin to fathom why.

“Y-you see, um, w-well… i-if I’m being quite honest, your team specifically appointed the help of Mingi and I here at this venue. We’re both Korean, yes, but we’re also… polyglots. We both speak French, among many other languages.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widen. “So, you’re both super geniuses then.”

“W-well, I wouldn’t go as far as to say _that_ —”

“So what’s the _real_ story behind you and Mingi, then? You can’t _really_ be his intern, Seonghwa. You said it yourself, he’s younger than you. You’ve been in the field for years. You’re some super mega genius. Why are you making yourself seem small? Why lie to me?”

Seonghwa’s chest rises before falling in a deep, weary sigh.

“The truth is… no, I am not an intern. While I am technically still a student, I have qualifications and experience to run shows. Mingi and I both have the same amount of experience in the field, and while he _is_ younger than me… our personalities are stark opposites. He’s very outgoing, loud-spoken, and bold. I am… obviously not that. When we met, he had this overbearing attitude that I just kind of fell into. I let him take control because I didn’t know what else to do.”

“So… you purposefully let him walk all over you?”

Seonghwa sighs. “I’ve been doing it for years, Hongjoong-ssi. I’ve always obeyed orders and given none, and not just with him. I don’t mind him calling me his ‘intern,’ since I’m well aware that my abilities are about the same as his. I was studying here in Paris when I got the offer to run a show here at this venue, and that was when I met Mingi. He was appointed first. I’d never met him before this project.”

“Mingi sounds like an ass, no offense,” Hongjoong mutters.

“I-I wouldn’t say that!”

“Calling you an intern and ordering you around like that? Who the hell does he think he is?”

“I do not take it that personally, honestly. After this show, I may never see him again.”

“Talking big game like that though… he doesn’t _really_ run sound tech here, does he?”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “No. We’re temporary techs here because your team specifically requested us. I think… it’s because he didn’t want you guys to doubt our abilities. He’s a good-natured person behind all the… loudness.”

Hongjoong frowns. Seeing Seonghwa so willing to be sucked dry of control is disheartening, immensely so. It reminds him of himself and his ragtag group of friends, who all came together because there was _something_ that made them the anomalies of their peers. Music was their way out, their way to take control back, grab their lives and misfortune by the reins and get on with their futures.

“So… you’ve studied abroad in multiple places, you’re a polyglot, you’ve got ten years of sound tech under your belt… and you let people walk all over you.”

Seonghwa winces. “H-Hongjoong, I… I do not expect you to understand—”

“And I don’t, obviously, because I’m no genius. I didn’t have the means to study abroad. Hell, I didn’t even go to college because _this_ is my job now. We live two different lives, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to what’s happening and what you’re feeling deep down.”

“Hongjoong…”

“Your favorite song of ours is about breaking out of people’s expectations and the cages we put ourselves in. There’s a _reason_ that song resonates with you. I get it, shit’s hard when you’re shy and naturally introverted. I was like that. Still kind of am. I’m not as rowdy as my bandmates, as you can tell.”

Both of them glance out of the plexiglass window, and sure enough, Hongjoong’s bandmates are skipping around the stage like school children.

“But if you let people walk all over you for the rest of your life, where are you gonna go? You know what’s heavier than the weight of the world? The weight of yourself. And you’re never gonna be able to lift yourself off the ground if you’re constantly trampled into it.”

Hongjoong can feel indignance rising in him, sour memories of kids and parents sneering in his and his friends’ faces saying “you’ll never make it.” Were there times he wanted to throw away his dream, toss it in the incinerator, and do what people told him to do? Of course. But everything in him screamed at him to keep going, because it would pay off in the end. The cheers of their ardent fans were enough to out-scream his self-deprecating thoughts.

“Know your worth, Seonghwa-ssi. That’s all I’m going to tell you.”

And with that, Hongjoong walks out, leaving Seonghwa to his element.

~

_Go and break the scene_

_Seek the rivers running cold_

_There you’ll see what I mean_

_Away from what you’ve been told_

“You sure, Joong? It’s not on the setlist… wait a second, you wanna perform this for that sound tech, don’t you?” San shouts in realization.

Hongjoong briefly surveys the reactions, grateful when he sees there aren’t any. Yeosang glances up from his phone as the hairstylists comb through his gold locks. “I don’t have a problem with it. Sound techs might, though. It’s not on the setlist and we didn’t perform it during soundcheck.”

“It was one of the first songs we ever produced. If it’s rough, it’s rough.” Hongjoong smirks. “That’s how it goes, y’know?”

San rolls his eyes, now vibrantly lined with glittery blue. “Whatever you say, man.”

“It’s an easy song vocally. It could be a nice break for my voice,” Jongho inputs.

“I’m sure it’ll be a nice surprise for the fans,” Yunho adds. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“The sound techs are great,” Hongjoong says. “I’m sure they can manage a little surprise.”

“And by ‘they,’ you mean the little sound tech intern that stole your heart,” San teases, sticking his tongue out. The stylist reprimands him and orders him to pucker his lips for burgundy gloss.

“He’s not an intern, just FYI. Mingi’s just a dick who makes him feel like one.”

Yunho snorts. “Yeah, that much was obvious. Thankfully he’s not here right now. He’d probably make sure our show tanks if he were.”

The whole group cracks up at that.

The clamor of adoring fans is already penetrating the doors leading to the backstage underground. Cheers of their names flood their eardrums. Hongjoong can already feel sweat forming in every pore, his heart pumping with sweet adrenaline. The drums and amps and microphones are all in place. When they reach the edge of the stage, Hongjoong secures the guitar strap around his shoulder, standing just a curtain sliver away from thousands of fans. It’s almost deafening, how loud the commotion is.

“Alright, team,” San shouts over the voices, gathering everyone in. “This is our biggest show yet. We got this! We ready?”

“Fuck yeah, we are!” Jongho half-shouts half-sings, throwing his hand into the middle of their circle.

With one last hurrah, Yeosang is sent out on stage first for his introductory drum solo. Hongjoong observes from the side, waiting for the cue as the crowd erupts in thunderous screams and applause as Yeosang’s form becomes visible under flashing white lights.

San is out next, adding treble to Yeosang’s rhythmic beats as he strums the first few chords of their song ‘Pretty Living.’ Yunho had written it after their first gig ever, some open mic at a bar that somehow didn’t get in trouble for letting underage people in. He said he was so inspired by the people willing to risk their lives and reputation for thrills. _That_ , to him, is pretty living. It’s a party song, one to get people on their feet, and by god, it does.

Hongjoong can hardly see through all the flashing lights, but he can feel every vibration from his toes to his head. Even through his earpiece, he can hear the ocean of fans and his beloved electric guitar roaring, setting every nerve on fire, raising every last hair on his body. _This_ is his element.

On stage, performing songs that impact people just like him and Seonghwa.

When ‘Pretty Living’ concludes, San’s guitar’s reverb bleeds into their next song, ‘Pills and Petals.’ Yeosang tried acid for the first time when he was twenty-one and wrote the psychedelic-sounding song after seeing the posters on his wall overflowing with vines and flowers. He woke up the next day with scraps of paper littered around his bedroom, covering almost every inch of the floor.

After their second song has finished, the crowd hushes as San begins his first speech, starting with the classic, “Thank you all for coming out tonight.”

The cheese is going to be saved for the end, however. For Hongjoong’s speech. “You’re better at that kinda stuff,” Yunho had told him. “You have a way with words. There’s a reason why you’re our best lyricist, you know.”

Their show goes on for three more songs before the lull, when each member takes a few minutes to just _talk._ To connect with the audience, remind them that they too are people with personalities and senses of humor and feelings. The audience laughs with them when San bonks Yunho on the head but has to stand on his tiptoes to do it. They laugh when Jongho does a dramatic rendition of Celine Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On.’ They laugh when Hongjoong accidentally stumbles over an impossibly thick cord that he doesn’t even know _what_ it’s for. And he laughs too, because in front of him are thousands of people who see him through his craft, not through the eyes of people who “knew” him and thought his dreams were bullshit.

Here, he’s proving them wrong.

“And you’ll prove them wrong too, someday,” Hongjoong speaks into the mic, panting from the adrenaline spiking in his body. “Because every single fucking day there are going to be people who put you down and ridicule you. And for what? Because you don’t fit their standards? Or their definition of normal? Fuck all of that! Fuck it all!”

And so begins a chant of “fuck it all” complete with fist pumps and raucous cheers, first led by Hongjoong and continued by the people who dream to stand where they stand.

Not necessarily on stage, but on their feet, somewhere, having fucked it all and did what they wanted to do despite everything threatening to drag them down.

Hongjoong wants that for everyone.

“This song… is a surprise performance. It’s not on the setlist, but it’s a very special song to me, my bandmates, and I’m sure it’s special to a hell of a lot of you.” The crowd starts another three-worded cheer. Hongjoong is admittedly surprised that they know what it is off the bat.

“This is ‘Break the Scene,’ everybody!”

~

_Give me your time but I won’t give you mine_

_I’m taking what I deserve, whatever I need_

_‘Cause when we’re all doomed to die_

_Who’s to say I can’t be me?_

~

“I want you all to know… that we may never be there. But we will always be _there_ , you hear me? We’re in your hearts, in your heads, in your ears. We’re wherever you are. We’ll be there. We’re here. And it’s a promise. Promise me back, okay? Promise me that you’ll always be here!”

Hongjoong’s voice cracks on his last syllable as he gazes upon the phone lights and glittering tears, feeling his chest tied in a thousand knots. The rest of his band members are looking at him, pride bursting from their eyes.

_Look at me, ma. I made it._

~

“God, I think I sweat all my makeup off,” San groans once they’ve all retreated backstage. “But anyway, I think we fucking _killed it_!”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Yeosang says. “And I only broke three drumsticks! I consider that a miracle, honestly.”

“Guys, that was _spectacular_!” their manager booms, bursting from a random door with widespread arms. He throws them around San and Yunho and tucks their heads under his pits. “You guys did so _awesome_!”

“Glad you think so, boss! Now, uh, mind letting us go? You’ve got some gnarly B.O., dude.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Once free from the body odor-riddled headlock, San bounces on his feet and claps his hands. “I say we go out and celebrate!”

“I second that!” their manager assents. As do the rest of them, except Hongjoong.

San frowns at him. “Oh, come on! You don’t want to celebrate?”

Hongjoong chuckles. “There are going to be plenty of other opportunities for us to celebrate. I’m just… kind of overwhelmed at the moment.”

“You need space?” Yunho asks, and Hongjoong nods.

They’ve been on the sidelines during Hongjoong’s moods. They know that too many sleepless, anxiety-filled nights have brought out the best and worst in him. Raw and poignant lyrics and so many tears and breathless episodes, they’ve been with him through it all. And they understand. It’s why they’re friends.

Why they decided to perform in the first place.

“You’ll just be going back to the hotel, then?” their manager asks.

“Yeah. You guys go on ahead without me. I’m just gonna take some time here to decompress. Maybe do some sightseeing, I don’t know.”

“Hey man, whatever you gotta do. Clear your head, take all the time you need. If we don’t see you tonight, we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Jongho pats him on the shoulder. “We’re proud of you, leader.”

“Leader?” Hongjoong cocks an eyebrow at that.

“You were the one who brought us together, weren’t you? We kinda collectively agreed you're the leader of our little wannabe punk rock group,” San jokes.

Hongjoong chuckles. “If you guys say so.”

Still decked out in their stage outfits and smudged makeup, the rest of the group departs through the back, leaving Hongjoong and a few remaining staff members from the venue. He stares at himself in the full-length mirror, in all his chains and leather jacket and plaid half-skirt. His makeup is smudged too, the eyeliner falling into his bags, making his dark circles seem even darker.

A few passing staff members congratulate and praise him. He acknowledges them with tired smiles and thank you’s. His head feels oddly empty. Maybe he really does need a drink.

“Hey,” speaks a familiar baritone voice.

“Oh. Hi.” Hongjoong turns around and chuckles. “You did great.”

“You’re telling me _I_ did great, when you just delivered one of the best performances I’ve ever seen? How dare you!” Seonghwa laughs, mocking offense.

“Without you guys, we would’ve sounded like shit.”

“Will say, your surprise performance of ‘Break the Scene’ certainly threw us for a loop, but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle.” Seonghwa lowers his head, but even that can’t hide the smile he’s playing.

“I hope you enjoyed it,” Hongjoong says, perhaps a little more suggestively than intended, but it’s not like he cares all that much. He’s drunk on the adrenaline crash. “Ah, man. I need nourishment.”

“Didn’t the rest of your bandmates go out to celebrate? Why didn’t you go with them?”

“I’m not huge on big outings. I’d rather just relax, you know?”

Seonghwa nods and chuckles, pushing his frames up the bridge of his nose. “Trust me, I know.”

“Well, I’m pretty hungry… know any good places around here?”

Seonghwa’s eyes blow wide open. “I—w-well, y-yes, I do. But I, um, have to finish up here, and, well, th-that’ll take me a bit…”

Hongjoong shrugs. “I got the rest of the night.”

Seonghwa blinks at him, stuck in place like a deer in the headlights. “I… know a few places?”

Hongjoong laughs at his “question.” He sighs and leans back against the off-white wall. “Well, I’ll wait for you to be done, then. I’ll be back here, just come meet me when you’re done.”

“O-okay.”

Instead of moving, Seonghwa stands frozen in place, his head whipping around for something to look at except Hongjoong, much like he’d done earlier. It’s… ridiculously cute, Hongjoong thinks.

When Seonghwa finally returns to his duties elsewhere, Hongjoong gets changed back into his everyday clothes, just a plain white t-shirt and some gray sweats, and scrubs his face with a makeup wipe. When he stares back into the mirror, he barely recognizes himself. What he’s seeing is the true face of the group, the man behind the mask, the one behind the pain that many of their lyrics deliver.

He’s come a long way. Normally he’d stare at his face in the mirror and want to punch it to shatters. He still scrutinizes his reflection a little unhealthily, but he doesn’t entirely hate what he sees.

He sees success. Accomplishment. Perseverance. And that is more powerful than anything else.

By the time Seonghwa meets him at the back, he’s huddled up in his hoodie and slippers, barefaced and vulnerable.

“Take me somewhere nice, Seonghwa-ssi,” Hongjoong says, grinning.

“O-okay.”

Hongjoong stays by Seonghwa’s side as they walk in complete silence. Hongjoong accredits this to both of their awkwardness, though manifested differently. He knows how to talk to people, but he can be too blunt sometimes. Seonghwa seems like the kind of person who doesn’t take that well. It’s a recipe for disaster conversation, Hongjoong thinks.

But their talk in the sound booth was far from a disaster.

“So what’s it been like, living in Paris?” Hongjoong asks in an attempt at small talk.

“It’s beautiful, though it smells like piss,” Seonghwa says with a laugh. “Out of all the places I’ve been to, however, it’s definitely far from the worst.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Just about three weeks. I’m heading back to Korea next week for break, and then after break, I’m off to New Zealand.”

“Sheesh, you’ve really been around, huh?”

“It’s important to familiarize yourself with different places. While sound tech is generally all the same, it’s the atmosphere, the language, the culture… everything, that you have to learn. If you want to be a part of music, you have to experience all of that for yourself. What’s the point of doing something that can reach the world if you yourself can’t? Like I said, I can’t play music, but I still want to be a part of its world. And in order to do that, I have to breach my comfort zone a little bit.”

 _This_ is the conversation Hongjoong knows.

Get Seonghwa talking, and he won’t stop. But what he talks about isn’t nonsensical blather; it’s all about his passion and thoughts that nobody else bothers to listen to. The kind of passion Hongjoong has finally accepted within himself, the kind that he loves to see in other people. When Seonghwa is free from scrupulous eyes, he can go on and on, stammerless and proud of his work. Put him under the gaze of people he fears, and he cowers.

Hongjoong could listen to him talk all night if that’s what it took to remove Seonghwa from his shell entirely.

“I’m fortunate to have gotten so many opportunities to travel. My hope is to eventually become a full-fledged touring audio engineer. Someone who sticks with a musician to be a sound tech at every venue they go to.”

“So that’s why you’re traveling so much.”

Seonghwa nods. “How amazing it would be if I could manage the sound tech at the same venues, but with different artists. The wonder it fills me with… oh, gosh, sorry. I’m rambling.”

“It’s okay. It’s very, very okay,” Hongjoong reassures with a genuine smile spread across his face. “I love listening to you talk about your passions. You seem… freer, when you do.”

Seonghwa lets out a long sigh. “I find it… easy to talk to you, Hongjoong. I don’t really talk to anybody, if I’m being honest. I’m always up to my neck in work that I don’t really have a social life, as much as I would like to. I hope that once I’m done with my studies, I’ll have the chance to actually _explore_ , you know?”

“I don’t see what’s stopping you. Who’s to say you can’t work and meet some amazing people along the way? You’ve worked with plenty of venues, haven’t you?” Seonghwa nods. “Well, maybe the people you’ve met haven’t clicked with you, didn’t make any notable impressions. And that’s fine. But at the same time, you have to put in the effort to better yourself, put yourself out there. You never know what you’ll find.”

Hongjoong watches Seonghwa’s smile reappear. Spreading like an angel’s wings.

“I know I’m not the most outgoing person, but I’m trying, Hongjoong. Truly.”

“I believe you, and I’m proud of you for that. You’re doing a great job. I mean, look at you, you’re walking besides rising star Kim Hongjoong right now,” he says half-jokingly.

“I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t invited me,” Seonghwa points out, chuckling lightheartedly.

“But you agreed to in the first place. And that’s a giant step.”

Seonghwa raises his head, wearing his proud smile and his wide, wondrous eyes. They glimmer beneath the night sky, under a plethora of glittering lights.

“You know, Hongjoong, there’s a reason why I was drawn to your music. It speaks.”

“That’s the beauty of music. It’s always there.”

“Always speaking.”

“Always.”

“Hm.”

~

It’s nearing midnight by the time Seonghwa and Hongjoong have finished their coffees. Hongjoong is surprised that there was a café open this late. Caffeine does little to faze him, so he simply relishes the mocha simmering on his taste buds, and pops a peppermint in his mouth when their cups are disposed of.

The night is still young, Hongjoong thinks. There have been nights where he didn’t sleep at all. Those nights were immortal, brutal. Cruel, even.

But this one, under a fishnet of stars, walking along stone pathways to the sound of rushing water, is the most heavensent night Hongjoong has ever experienced.

“Are all nights like this?” he wonders aloud.

“Like what?” Seonghwa asks.

“Calm. Serene.”

“Kind of,” Seonghwa answers seriously. “You’ll have the occasional asshole who starts yelling for no reason. We’re farther away from the tourist-y part of the city, so it’s quiet.”

They reach an arch that opens up to a miniature tunnel, leading to another section of the city. Hongjoong has only seen these types of things in movies, but here it is, this mesmerizing structure unfolding before his eyes. He feels like he’s living in a movie. And anything is possible in this movie.

He walks halfway into the tunnel before stopping and resting his back against the carefully curved stone. Illuminated only by faraway streetlights, Hongjoong feels like a mere shadow blending into the rest of the night. Seonghwa stands off beside him.

“You know, this is the calmest I’ve felt in a while,” Hongjoong says.

“Really?”

“Mm. I don’t get many nights like these.”

“Your nights are too loud, I’m guessing.”

“Our music reflects that. The loudness of night.”

“It’s amazing and terrifying, what thoughts can do.”

“Mm.”

 _Anything is possible,_ Hongjoong thinks.

Tomorrow, Hongjoong will be off to London. And after, Madrid. Then Milan.

This is his first and final night in Paris.

_Anything is possible._

From being high off adrenaline, to being drunk off the crash, to being sedated by the night, Hongjoong lifts himself from the wall and stands in front of Seonghwa.

“I won’t get to see you again, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa stares, silent. He swallows. “Y-yes, I know. It really has been a pleasure getting to talk to you and see you perform live.”

“Who said our night has to end now?”

Even in low light, Hongjoong can see the panic flaring in Seonghwa’s eyes. It makes him smile. “H-Hongjoong, I don’t… I don’t understand…”

“I think you do.” Hongjoong leans in every so slightly, until he can feel Seonghwa’s warmth against his torso. “You are brilliant, Seonghwa.”

“Ah… b-but… Hongjoong, you are the brilliant one. I don’t even think… I don’t…”

“Words, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong lowers his voice to just above a whisper. “Use your words.”

Hongjoong can hear the stutter in Seonghwa’s breath. “Hongjoong… are you insinuating… oh, gosh, I can’t even say it.”

“Am I insinuating that I find you incredibly attractive and would like our night to continue with activities other than talking? Yes.”

Seonghwa chokes.

“Of course, if you don’t want to—”

“No!” Seonghwa nearly yells. “I-I mean… I just… I’ve never done anything like this before. L-like, at all.”

“Really?”

Seonghwa nods. “It’s always been work, work, work for me. I don’t have any time for… pleasure.”

“Well, do you have some right now?”

“I… suppose…”

“Seonghwa, if you really don’t want to—”

“I swear it’s not that! I just… I really don’t know what to do. A-and with you… I don’t want to disappoint you or anything like that.”

When Hongjoong touches Seonghwa for the first time, just a mere brush of his shoulder, Seonghwa shudders. “You’re not going to disappoint me, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong murmurs, leaning in even further. “Even if you last ten seconds, you wouldn’t disappoint me.”

“Oh, gosh, Hongjoong, _please_ …”

“Please what?”

“When you speak like that…” Seonghwa trails off, and Hongjoong brings his index finger to Seonghwa’s jaw, skimming the chiseled edge.

“Like what, Seonghwa?”

“Hongjoong, please.” Seonghwa sounds about ready to cry. “I r-really don’t know what to do or say. Please, just… take me.”

“Take you? Well, how do you want me?”

“I d-don’t know.”

“Then we’ll try this.”

When Hongjoong finally connects their lips, Seonghwa goes rigid in his grasp, his breaths coming to an abrupt halt. At first, his lips barely move, warm and uncertain, but Hongjoong’s are inviting and hungry, yet cautious at the same time. He moves at a languid pace, cradling Seonghwa’s neck. Seonghwa eventually starts to breathe again, his little sighs coming out as timid whimpers as he finally manages to move his lips in tandem with Hongjoong’s.

“Don’t tell me that was your first kiss,” Hongjoong says once he’s pulled away.

Seonghwa pauses. “What if it was?”

“Then I question every person who has ever looked at you. And don’t you dare try to refute that. You’re fucking _gorgeous_ , Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa’s lips move with more confidence than before, and his mouth is prepared when Hongjoong slips his tongue inside. It’s still sloppy, but Hongjoong is finally getting to explore him, what he’s capable of behind the sound tech, and gets to show him a world completely separate from the ones he knows.

Hongjoong smiles into the kiss when he feels Seonghwa’s hands around his waist, gripping it tight. He falls further into Seonghwa, fingers curling in the collar of his green sweater vest. He’s dizzy with desire, half-hard in his sweatpants. It’s been a little while since he’s last had some action, and what’s a better place for a racy rendezvous than the city of love?

“W-wait, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa pants, lips still half-connected with Hongjoong’s.

“What, what’s wrong?”

“N-nothing’s _wrong_ , just… not here.”

Hongjoong takes one glance around to remember that yes, they’re in the middle of an open tunnel.

“M-my place isn’t far,” Seonghwa says. “If you want to… keep going.”

“You think I would say no to that?”

Seonghwa doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head and stands up straighter. “A-alright then. Follow me.”

Hongjoong has to be the one to link their fingers even though Seonghwa is the one leading him, but he can’t help but smile to himself when Seonghwa doesn’t once let go.

~

Seonghwa’s place is a lofty apartment on the outskirts of Paris, tucked away at the edge of a sketchy-looking alleyway. It’s modest yet refined, fit for someone like him, with an old-fashioned feel and sleek, polished wooden floors. It’s well-furnished and honestly better than any place Hongjoong has ever lived, even his own home.

When the door closes behind them and they kick off their shoes, Seonghwa’s nervousness resurfaces as he freezes in place again, standing with his back to the door.

“I… I’m sorry if it’s a mess.”

Hongjoong takes one look at the place and is utterly befuddled. If this place is a mess, his room back home is an actual pigsty. Everything looks well-organized minus a stack of papers and textbooks on the kitchen island. The _nerve_ Seonghwa has.

“It’s fine.” Hongjoong regards him anyway, taking his hand again. “Where’s the bedroom?”

Seonghwa leads the way again, down a short hallway to a door on their left. It’s such a cozy place, Hongjoong thinks, just the right balance of modest and sumptuous. The scent of maple and wood floods his senses as soon as he steps in the room. Already dazed with arousal, he wraps his arms around Seonghwa’s neck and leans in, feeling Seonghwa’s breath hot on his face.

“Hongjoong… truly, I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t know where to begin.”

“Then let me show you,” Hongjoong whispers, reconnecting their lips once more.

He gently nudges Seonghwa forward until his legs hit the bed, and the two collapse onto it, shuffling up to the neatly-arranged pillows stacked near the head. “Do you really want this?” Hongjoong asks, nipping at Seonghwa’s jaw.

“I do,” Seonghwa gasps, his hand coming up to cradle the back of Hongjoong’s head, pulling him in even more. “Gosh, I really do.”

“We’ll take things slow, okay?”

Seonghwa nods feverishly, ragged breaths escaping him with each push of Hongjoong’s lips. Hongjoong loses himself in the listlessness of it all, the way Seonghwa’s lips move so uncertainly against his, Seonghwa’s _beautiful_ little whimpers whenever Hongjoong moves his hands. It’s been so long, too long, since Hongjoong has touched another human like this, and he feels honored that it gets to be with someone as extraordinary as Seonghwa.

“You’re beautiful,” Hongjoong murmurs against Seonghwa’s neck, untucking his sweater vest and the white dress shirt underneath it.

“Says you,” Seonghwa says with a chuckle. He lifts his arms, allowing Hongjoong to divest him of his shirts.

Hongjoong can’t help but ogle; Seonghwa isn’t the most muscular, but he’s fit and lean, his skin soft and laden with goosebumps. He takes his precious time dragging his fingertips across the expanse of Seonghwa’s taut torso, reveling in each shiver he manages to elicit. Seonghwa’s hips undulate as Hongjoong’s hands near his pelvis, his cock straining against his khakis.

When Hongjoong latches onto it, Seonghwa’s mouth drops wide open in a moan so beautiful, Hongjoong swears he might be dreaming.

As he palms at Seonghwa’s aching erection, Seonghwa thrusts up into his hand, seeking more friction. “Hongjoong, please…”

“You want me to touch you more?”

“ _Please_.”

Hongjoong smirks as he pops the button and lowers the zipper, forgoing the underwear and slipping his hand right past the waistband to grab his cock. To his surprise, Seonghwa lowers both garments past his thighs, allowing his cock to spring free, hot and heavy in Hongjoong’s hand. Already damp with precum, Hongjoong moves his hand up and down Seonghwa’s cock, feeling it quiver under his fingers.

“Nobody’s ever touched you like this?” Hongjoong asks. Seonghwa shakes his head and moans in response. “Shame on them, honestly. I mean, _look at you._ You’re so _pretty_ , Seonghwa.”

“Hongjoong… please, let me, too.”

“You want to touch me?”

Seonghwa nods, already reaching out to grab the hem of Hongjoong’s loose-fitting t-shirt. It slips off with ease, and Hongjoong lowers himself back down, capturing Seonghwa’s lips in another kiss as Seonghwa’s hands disappear beneath his sweatpants, fingers digging into the skin of his ass.

“Good, good,” Hongjoong praises, rocking backward in hopes Seonghwa receives the message.

Though inexperienced, Seonghwa certainly isn’t incompetent. His hands travel inward, closer to the split, kneading both of Hongjoong’s ass cheeks with hands big enough to swallow them. Impatient, Hongjoong lifts himself up again and yanks his pants down and off, his own aching cock now free from its confines. Seonghwa follows, leaving them both naked, ready.

“I never thought this would happen,” Seonghwa whispers in awe, his hands landing at Hongjoong’s waist. “Never in a million years.”

Hongjoong chuckles darkly. “You wouldn’t happen to have any condoms or lube, would you?”

Seonghwa stares back blankly. “I, um… I do, actually. J-just in case anything _did_ happen, even though I didn’t think—”

Hongjoong shuts him up with a kiss and a laugh. “They’re in the nightstand drawer,” Seonghwa tells him once Hongjoong’s pulled away.

Once Hongjoong retrieves them, he sets them off to the side and kisses back down Seonghwa’s body, his tongue darting past his lips and flicking against the tip of Seonghwa’s cock. Salty with precum and red with shameless arousal, Hongjoong sucks half of it into his mouth, sighing through his nose when he feels it twitch on his tongue.

“O-oh… oh my…” Seonghwa’s pure and innocent cries of pleasure only egg Hongjoong on; he swirls his tongue around the girth and hollows his cheeks, bobbing his head to an inaudible rhythm. He glances up through hooded eyes, wishing he could smile at the glorious sight in front of him—Seonghwa’s head thrown back, hands desperately clutching the spotless white bedsheets, chest heaving in pleasure.

“Feel good?” Hongjoong asks, swallowing whatever spit that has accumulated in his mouth.

“Oh god, _yes_ ,” Seonghwa drawls. “Hongjoong, I won’t… I won’t last if you keep doing that.”

“Don’t worry,” Hongjoong says.

“At least let me do you—”

Hongjoong shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I want to pleasure _you_ tonight.”

“Hongjoong, I _insist_ ,” Seonghwa asserts, fingers tightening on his waist. “Let me try.”

And who is Hongjoong to say no to the ethereal being willing to reciprocate?

Hongjoong flips onto his back and lets Seonghwa settle between his legs. He grabs Hongjoong’s cock tentatively, eyeing it carefully before diving in. Though it’s just a kitten lick, Hongjoong can’t help but moan, eyes fluttering shut as Seonghwa takes more of him into his mouth. The warm, wet heat of Seonghwa’s mouth is enough to get his head spinning again, his thighs tensing and hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Doing so well, baby,” Hongjoong coos, burying a hand in Seonghwa’s perfectly groomed hair.

Seonghwa moans around his cock, his plump lips stretched so marvellously. “You like when I call you that?” Hongjoong asks.

A terse “mm” is his response.

Though Seonghwa’s inexperience is quite evident, he puts his heart and intrinsic fervor into his effort, and that alone is enough to get Hongjoong closer to the edge. Here in front of him is one of the most ambitious, intelligent human beings he’s ever met, sucking his dick, wishing to pleasure him just as equally.

Hongjoong feels blessed in this very moment.

“Seonghwa.” It comes out raspy, no surprise to him there. “I need to get myself ready for you.”

“O-oh. Okay.”

“Watch,” Hongjoong instructs. Seonghwa leans back on his knees, watching as Hongjoong spreads his legs. He squirts a sizable amount of lube onto three fingers and prods them against his hole, slipping his middle one inside.

Seonghwa’s eyes are wide and attentive, his cock rock hard against his stomach. “Touch yourself, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says as he pumps the single digit in and out of him.

Seonghwa’s bottom lip disappears behind his teeth, wrapping his fingers loosely around his cock. His strokes are long and slow, and Hongjoong can see the way copious amounts of precum glisten at the tip. He’s so helplessly aroused, it’s almost adorable.

Hongjoong speeds up his work, impatient and eager to finally feel Seonghwa inside him. Finger after finger, he spreads them out inside him, reaching as deep as he can until he feels his walls adequately stretched. Seonghwa continues to watch with parted lips, entranced, his hand languidly fisting his cock.

“On your back,” Hongjoong says, sitting up. While Seonghwa gets situated against the pillows, Hongjoong tears the condom package, straddling Seonghwa’s thighs. “Are you ready?”

“I have been since you kissed me in the tunnel,” Seonghwa says lowly, a breath exhaled in wonder.

Something about those words stirs a warm sensation in Hongjoong’s belly, sending a smile to his face. He rolls the condom onto Seonghwa’s cock, drizzles more lube onto it, and hovers above it, staring straight into Seonghwa’s eyes.

The moment Seonghwa’s cock fits inside him, both of them release wavering moans that carry every ounce of pleasure they’re feeling. Strangely enough, Hongjoong has never felt so close to a person, not even his past lovers. They couldn’t even compare.

“Oh… _Hongjoong_.” His name drips from Seonghwa’s mouth like a sin. “I really, _really_ won’t be able to last.”

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong says, grinding his hips downward experimentally. Seonghwa whimpers in response, planting his hands on Hongjoong’s waist again. “Just let me handle everything.”

Hongjoong grounds his hands on Seonghwa’s thighs and leans back, swiveling his hips and feeling Seonghwa’s cock rubbing against every inch of his insides, nudging against his prostate. His lips press together in a tight line as he stifles his moans. “Hongjoong… you feel amazing,” Seonghwa exhales. His hands grasp Hongjoong’s waist even tighter, guiding Hongjoong’s body as he moves on his cock.

“You t-too,” Hongjoong says through gritted teeth, throwing his arms around Seonghwa’s shoulders and smashing their lips together.

It’s the grip Seonghwa has on his waist, the heat of his cock stirring him from the inside out, the way he moves his lips so fervently. His determination carries over to the bedroom, it seems. Even below Hongjoong, Seonghwa isn’t just _letting_ it happen; he’s engaged, focused, and willing to give Hongjoong _everything_ despite his inexperience in this realm.

Though uncertain, he wants Hongjoong to feel just as much pleasure. He wants Hongjoong to get just as much out of their first and last night together.

“Touch me, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong pleads as his hips speed up, circling on Seonghwa’s cock.

When Seonghwa touches him, he feels the instant rush of adrenaline again, his mouth dropping open into an unconscious moan. Seonghwa’s hand moves expertly, flicking his wrist at the head, collecting whatever lube and precum coats it.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa gasps, pulling Hongjoong in by the back of his neck, mouth pressed to his clavicle. “Hongjoong, I’m close…”

“It’s okay, baby,” Hongjoong assures. “Go ahead and cum for me.”

Seonghwa cums with an elongated grunt, teeth sinking into the thin skin of Hongjoong’s collarbone as he releases into the condom. Hongjoong can feel every pulse, can feel himself tightening on instinct. He stills himself, urging Seonghwa’s motionless hand off his cock and replacing it with his own.

When he finally cums, he makes sure it’s _known_ , makes sure his voice is loud enough to permeate floors. He wants the world to know that it was _Seonghwa_ who brought him this pleasure.

“Seonghwa, Seonghwa...” he moans like a chant, spurting string after string of cum onto his and Seonghwa’s stomachs.

Their breaths are in sync, weighty and fiery as they come down from their highs. Hongjoong collapses forward, head buried in the crook of Seonghwa’s neck.

“That… really just happened,” Seonghwa speaks, breathless.

“Yeah.”

Seonghwa laughs, which makes Hongjoong laugh, and soon enough, they’re cleaned up (courtesy of Seonghwa) and redressed, though Seonghwa dresses himself in his nightclothes, this charming striped pajama set worthy of a prince.

They’re by the door when Hongjoong turns on his heels to face Seonghwa, solemn. “There’s a good chance I won’t see you again,” he says.

Seonghwa nods. “I know.” Though his voice is melancholy, it has a finality to it, because he knows it’s true. He’s accepted it just as much as Hongjoong has.

“Thank you. For tonight.”

“Thank you too, Hongjoong. Your words… mean more than you will ever know.”

Hongjoong smiles, stepping forward for one more kiss.

When he pulls away, he whispers, “If or when I come back to Paris, promise me you’ll be here.”

He steps back, watches as Seonghwa struggles for words to make a promise he knows he can’t keep. When he inevitably fails to answer, Hongjoong simply giggles and opens the door with one hand, dropping his other one to Seonghwa’s and sliding a slip of paper into his palm before stepping outside the apartment and back into the world.

“Au revoir, mon étoile,” comes the hushed voice from behind the door.

**Author's Note:**

> the question is... who said it at the end? could've been either of them when you think about it. hm.
> 
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)!


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